


Run

by justanoutlaw



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanoutlaw/pseuds/justanoutlaw
Summary: 17 years ago, they made a pact. It’s one Emma never thought they’d actually follow through on. Until her phone buzzes with a text containing a single word: RUN.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> QueenoftheMerryMen prompted something based off the show “Run”. I have never seen it, but the summary screamed Swanfire.

The egg sizzles in the pan, the only sound to be heard in the deadly quiet kitchen. The spatula scratches the bottom of it, Emma watching it with a frown on her face. She sprinkles it with salt and pepper, a desperate attempt to add some flavor to this bland morning.

Killian's cough echoes through the kitchen, followed by a move of the paper. Emma rolls her eyes and tries to keep her head down.

A harp calls from across the room. Emma drops the spatula and walks over to her phone. The number is listed as Unknown, but the text gives away the sender.

**_RUN_ **

Emma's lips inch downwards as her brain clouds over. Neal's handsome brown eyes, his messy curls. The lopsided grin imprinted on her brain, even after 17 years.

She can go weeks without thinking of him, but this text…

"Emma!" Her head snaps up from her phone. "Are the eggs burning?"

"Shit."

Emma rushes back over to the pan and shuts off the chrome stove. The edges of the yellow dish are tinged a dark shade of brown, smoke radiating off of them. She flips it onto a plate and carefully carries it to her husband, sliding it in front of him. He grunts in acknowledgment and she returns to her phone, staring at the bold text.

She's 35 years old. A few strands of grey hair, they occasionally pop up in her eyebrows too. A job. A husband.

She cannot be expected to follow through on this promise. One made on Jack Daniels and childish ideals. Phones have changed from flip to that of an iPhone. She's got unlimited text now. Emma Swan is a grown woman, not the wild eyed teenager who made this promise to Neal.

"Killian," she says, turning to him. Her hands fall on top of her blue blouse, brushing some spare pepper away. "I can't take you to work today."

He looks up from his breakfast. "Why not?"

"Aurora just texted. She needs help with the baby." The lie falls off her lips easily. Too easily. "Can John take you?"

"I guess. Taking the day off?"

"Joe always bugs me to use my sick time, guess I can now."

After Killian pulls away with his best friend, Emma heads up to their bedroom. She strips off the blouse and pulls her red leather jacket over her under shirt. She throws a few clothes into a backpack, throwing it over her shoulder.

Is she really doing this?

She looks around her bedroom. Painted blue with all wicker furniture. 10 minutes from the beach. A wedding portrait on the nightstand, of her in the dress she never wanted to wear. The silver ring clings to her finger like a handcuff, chaining her to this suburban wasteland.

Emma removes the ring and her chest lightens. It falls into the shag carpeting, lost with the love she once held for the man she shares this room with.

On her phone, she pulls up the train schedule. It's a nearly 3 hour ride from New London to Grand Central. Plenty of stops for her to back out of this near midlife crisis if she wants.

The zodiac signs above Emma welcome her to New York City. A home she hasn't stepped foot in, in almost a decade.

Women in suits rush to the exit. Tourists take pictures. A homeless man dodges the police as he stakes out his home for the night. Chaotic, loud, Emma blends in perfectly. She digs into her jacket pocket and replies to the text.

**_Where are you?_ **

They never should've met. Emma's parents were too poor to send her to the ritzy private school she attended. Then her aunt Ingrid stepped forward, check in hand. Emma sat two seats behind Neal in Algebra, laughing when he made a pi joke.

They were inseparable after that. Parties, Central Park and the bakery that served his favorite jelly donuts. Neal wanted to escape his fighting parents, Emma was embarrassed of the tiny loft her parents called home. Weekends were spent at Cony Island or sneaking into clubs they were too young for.

And then college divided them. Ever the adventurer, Neal accepted a scholarship to a school in Europe. Emma would attend NYU on Ingrid's dime.

Their last night together, Emma gave Neal a compass. Neal gifted her a swan keychain on a necklace and a promise.

"If one of us ever wants one last adventure, we'll text each other a code. That's how we'll know to meet at Grand Central."

Emma had agreed with a smile. She waited for the text to come over the next 5 years but after getting her first job, she expected he forgot about her. After she married Killian, she buried the necklace at the bottom of her jewelry box and convinced herself her adventures were over. She said goodbye to New York and moved to Connecticut.

Now, the keychain sits between her cleavage, swaying to the sax that plays in the background.

If this was all some cruel joke, she'll kill him.

The harp plays again. Emma glances at her phone, with specific instructions on which terminal. She passes Zaro's Bakery, erupting with flavors of bagels and coffee. Newsstands plaster the latest tragedy and gossip.

Finally, she reaches the dark corner she's been instructed to find.

Wrinkles encroach on Neal's previously smooth skin. His gray sweater can't hide the extra pounds that the years have added. A short goatee replaces the clean shaved look he kept in high school.

And yet that crooked smile, those big brown eyes and his mess of brown curls give him away.

"Hey Emma," he says.

Her name on his lips is like a lost symphony.

"Hey Emma," she finds herself mimicking. "That's all you have to say?"

His hands slide into his pockets. "I guess I deserve that."

"It's been 17 years."

"I know."

"Life is different now. You can't just text your high school girlfriend and expect her to just show up!"

"You did."

Emma's brows furrow. "That's not the point!"

"It kind of is. Why would you come if you're just going to yell?"

_Because I hate my life. Because I don't love my husband. Because I miss you._

"Why did you text me?" She counters.

Neal looks around the dark corner they're in. "I woke up this morning and thought there has to be more to life than this."

"Than what?"

"Just…Everything."

Emma's stomach flip flops at the reality of how how tired he sounds. "Are you in trouble?"

"Trouble?"

"Like are the police looking for you?"

"I wouldn't do that to you, Emma. You know me."

"I know 18 year old you," she tells him and herself. As much as she misses him, as much as she's thought of him, she knows it's ridiculous. "We barely know each other as adults."

"You wanna try?"

The sensible answer is no.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere that's not here."

"So specific."

Neal rolls his eyes. "Ladies' choice."

She thinks for a moment before saying the first word that comes to mind. "Tallahassee."

"Tallahassee?"

She shrugs. "Tallahassee."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "I have my car parked at my apartment. It'll be a long drive."

"That's fine."

Emma steps onto the busy city sidewalk, Neal beside her. She looks back at the station, debating her options. She could be back before Killian returns from work. No one has to know she ever debated this.

Instead, she turns to Neal. "Which way?"


End file.
